


Nightly After Care

by BirdLittle



Series: a slice of spiderio [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: After care, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Office, BDSM, Bottom Peter Parker, Bruises, CEO Quentin Beck, CEO/Assistant, Comfort, Dom/sub, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, No Sex, Not Beta Read, Not Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliant, Peter is an adult, Protective Quentin Beck, Quentin Beck Is a Good Bro, Top Quentin Beck, assistant Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdLittle/pseuds/BirdLittle
Summary: Peter wobbled rather than walked into the kitchen, and sat down at the dining table, unable to contain his wince. It both made Beck proud and sympathetic.[Short interaction between Peter and Beck following a BDSM scene.]
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Peter Parker
Series: a slice of spiderio [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061984
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	Nightly After Care

The city that never sleeps was beginning to nod its head a little. Building lights were turning off, the streets darkening, and cars parking until the morning commute.

Beck stared out the window at that sight, watching as things calmed down after a long day, vaguely listened to whatever the person on the phone droned on about. Company related because of course it was, and at 3 am too. International dilemmas were a bitch, and ‘apparently’ it couldn’t wait till morning. He had barely managed to convince himself to get out of bed and didn’t even put on a shirt or pants thinking it would be over quickly. That was almost an hour ago.

_“We need these out by next Tuesday. Would it be alright for you to come in for a few hours on the Monday, Mr Beck?”_

Monday. It was a national holiday. Sadly, it wasn’t the first time a last-minute negotiation had to take place on a holiday. He tried to contain his sigh. Keyword being ‘tried’.

“Yes, Monday will be fine. I’ll come in around 9 so that —”

But then he choked on his own words when a set of arms wiggled themselves under his, and a smaller body pressed itself behind him, tightening the hug. On any other night, this would be not only surprising but also quite concerning, but it wasn’t any other night. He had a guest: Peter.

_“Sir? Are you alright?”_

Beck swore he heard a chuckle, and then the tell-tale sign of someone rubbing their face into his back. _Needy little thing._

“Y-Yes, Monday is fine. 9 o’clock, my office.” The moment he heard the confirmation, Beck hung up the call. He tossed the phone to the side, letting it bounce on the couch pillows and thankfully not falling off this time.

“’S it work?” The boy behind him mumbled, just barely audible.

“Yeah.”

“Do we needa come innon Monday…?”

Beck couldn’t help but laugh, “We? It’s a holiday, Pete, don’t worry about it.”

The arms around him tightened as Peter laughed too, “You do know, ‘m still your assistant, right?”

Oh, Beck was aware. He was also aware of how Peter was _here,_ at 5 am, after having spent many, _many_ hours doing rather _inappropriate_ things that should not be happening between the CEO and his assistant, and that was _after_ a rather tense day of trying to work without jumping into each other’s clothes. Though, Beck really didn’t give a shit. It’s a good thing then that he makes the rules too.

“Come here,” Beck lifted his right arm up, letting Peter move around to the man’s side. The boy’s arms stayed tight around his torso, and once he could, Peter buried his face in Beck’s chest, practically nuzzling into the skin.

Beck chuckled at the sight, gently placing his arm back down to scratch at Peter’s scalp. In response Peter sighed, leaning his weight forward even more. From the brief look Beck got of Peter’s face, the poor boy was exhausted, which was only confirmed by a loud yawn against his chest. To be fair, they did have a long day at work. And then quite the long night too.

Slipping his arm lower, Beck then played with the white fabric of Peter’s shirt. Actually, he soon realised it wasn’t Peter’s shirt at all; it was Beck’s, hanging loosely over the much smaller young man, top buttons not even done up correctly.

Still, he decided to tease, “Pete, what are you wearing?”

“Hm?” Blinking back sleep, Peter lifted his face, “Oh, just, you know… a shirt?”

“Hm, of course.” Slowly, slowly, Beck lowered his hand, until his fingers could slip under the bottom hem of the shirt. Bring his arm back higher but under the fabric, he traced a line up the boy’s spine, “Just a shirt, right?”

Whatever sound Peter let out could not be considered as a language, and the boy only pressed himself closer to Beck, once more hiding his face in the nook of the man’s neck, a movement that Beck used to fully turn them around to face each other. As his hand slowly tightened around the boy’s waist, other hand coming up to hold onto _his_ shirt on _his_ boy, Beck leaned down to Peter’s ear, giving it a small kiss and bite, and leaned even lower to leave a couple of much sloppier kisses down the boy’s neck, finally settling on a very small unblemished spot, and gently nipping at it.

Peter whined, shivering in his hold, “Dunno ‘f I can do more tonight”

Conceding, Beck let go of the skin in his teeth, licking over the spot, “Shouldn’t have worn my shirt, baby. Makes me wanna mark you up as mine.”

“’ll keep that ‘n mind,” Though Beck couldn’t see Peter’s face, from the tone of it this wouldn’t be the last time his clothing will go missing.

Pulling back a little, Beck looked down at the boy in his arms, exhausted, adorable, and so needy for physical affection. If Beck could, or rather if he wasn’t oblivious, he would gladly scoop Peter up in his arms and cuddle him so tight they’ll wake up stuck together like glue. But he was nice, and he knew better than to try to squeeze Peter’s currently very fragile body. God knows how long the bruises will stay. He hopes quite a while, but then again, the sooner they’re gone, the sooner they can go at it again.

“How’s your neck, by the way?” Beck mumbled, carefully tracing a finger along a particularly dark bruise _on_ said neck. He was asking really to gauge Peter’s emotional reaction to it, as if he couldn’t see the physical for himself, his own handiwork. Reds and purples and even blues, from angry bites to harsh fingerprints… the boy’s neck, and shoulders actually, were ravished with marks upon marks. And down his body, and on his thighs and ass.

But Peter didn’t call the safe word, and Beck trusted him on that.

“I’s okay, just a lil’ sore.”

It was a wonder how Peter even managed to walk around to find Beck in the first place. It’s not like his apartment was _that_ big, but it was a decent walk from the bedroom to the living room. Although, Beck probably shouldn’t have left Peter’s side to begin with.

Running the numbers in his head, Beck figured both the painkillers and soothing cream will be wearing off soon. He certainly should stay by Peter’s side now. “Let’s go get you some more ice.”

“Mmm… ’M okay…”

“Not a discussion.” Untangling himself from Peter’s hold, he placed an arm on the boy’s lower back, and guided them through the apartment halls, “And a Panadol while we’re at it, okay?”

“Yes _sir_.”

_Tease._ How many times has Peter called him that today now? Better yet, how many times when bringing him a file to sign, or a report to read, versus the times he whispered it submissively? Moaned it? _Screamed_ it? And, of course, along with the ‘sir’, came the ‘Mister Beck’ and even ‘daddy’, each one pretty much always preceded by the words ‘harder’ or ‘please’ or ‘thank you’.

Peter wobbled rather than walked into the kitchen, and sat down at the dining table, unable to contain his wince. It both made Beck proud and sympathetic.

The ice packet Peter pressed slowly to his thighs, adjusting to the temperature, and the Panadols he downed with two extra cups of water, still parched from the intense activities before.

In the low kitchen light, Beck could see even clearer the colourful shades on Peter skin. Inner thighs painted a deep purple, red stripes peeking from under his underwear on the other side… Cheek still tinted a light red, an outline of Beck’s palm, wrists and forearms sharing a collection of purples from where Beck grasped them, and a darker almost blue tint from when Peter pulled at the cuffs for hours on end.

He was beautiful.

Standing behind Peter now as the boy drank his third cup, Beck scratched at Peter’s scalp with both hands, uncertain how Peter would react to a massage on the shoulders; still too early. But the scratching was fine, no marks there, and Peter seemed to melt under his touch.

Finally, Peter seemed content for the time being. As he placed his cup down, Peter tried adjusting how he sat, only to let out an unfortunately loud whimper. Beck quickly took the cup away before it could fall and leaned down to see how he could help.

“Let’s go lie down again, yeah? I’ll put some more of that cream again.”

Peter made a quiet noise in agreeance, already half asleep.

“Can you walk?” Beck asked, after helping Peter stand and instantly having to support the boy’s weight.

“Yea’, jus’… help me? I barely made it ‘ere in the firs’ place.”

_Oh, of course, he did._ “Sorry. I’ll make sure to stay next to you next time, deal?”

Though his sleepy haze, Peter smiled, such a deceivingly innocent smile, for the promise of a second time didn’t go by past him, “Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> i mean i know peter shouldn't be walking, but let's bend reality for a little bit, shall we?


End file.
